Exeter Chronicles: Book one: Unassimilated
by Ebony Starstorm
Summary: When a group of Starfleet officers are trapped on a Borg cube, they get some very unexpected assistance...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, I just like breeding the plot bunnies in the wormholes. I do not own any recognisable characters, or several of the unrecognisable ones. Keep that in mind.

Thank you to SlytherinSal for being an awesome sounding board, and if you haven't already, I would recommend reading her stuff, it's awesome.

Chapter I

The five Starfleet officers stood in a corner, frantically firing their phasers at the mass of oncoming Borg. Though they'd killed most of them, those left standing were quickly absorbing the blasts, coming ever closer. One of them, marching in perfect time with the others in the second, and last, rank, jerked suddenly, arm flailing out in front of it. There was a horrid snapping sound as the one directly in front dropped to the floor, unmoving. The unit turned and did the same to those on either side. Eight Borg left.

'What the hell?'

'Dunno, keep firing.' There was another crack. Six Borg standing.

'Switch settings', and another. Whoever or whatever that Borg had been, they obviously wanted to register their disapproval of the collective. That or it was just malfunctioning, whichever. They wouldn't complain as long as it kept attacking its fellows and not them. Then it was over, the single Borg standing alone in the middle of the room, looking directly at them. Then it, too, collapsed, red liquid oozing from a nasty gash to the top of its head. The officers hurried towards it, forming a barrier between it and whatever, or whoever, wanted to hurt it. For now, at least, the Borg was a friend.

'Got them! Kill it!' Ah, the reinforcements had finally arrived. The five survivors stood between the downed Borg and the others, a human wall between the lone unit and its attackers.

'Why are you _protecting it?_ That thing would have killed you!'

'Look around. See the ones that look like they have their necks broken?' They shot a meaningful glance at the unconscious body. 'Now, I don't know if it was just malfunctioning or not, but it killed those that attacked us, and it didn't, so...'

'You don't mean to bring that thing onboard with you, do you? The Captain'll have a fit. It's a Borg, it's _dangerous_.'

'It also saved our lives. Besides it, _he's_ unconscious. What damage can a single Borg do while he's knocked out?'

xxxx

'You bought _what_ on board? It's a Borg, lieutenant; we don't run a floating halfway home here. Every time you go somewhere, you bring a pet back with you!' The doctor's rant was perhaps unfortunate, but even much later, the nickname 'Exeter's pet Borg' had stuck.

xxxx

A babble of voices encroached on the silence. There were blurry lights above his head, and his hands felt oddly free, though the rest of his body was still encased in the strange armour that it had been for so long. Wherever this was, it didn't look like any part of the cube.

'Who are you?' A voice snapped at him, curtly. He instinctively tried to see who it was, but his eyes couldn't seem to focus properly, tried to speak but his throat felt like it was imploding, his tongue tasting of sandpaper and steel. His voice came in a thin, rasping moan that hurt to make, and he shut his mouth again, wincing.

'Ah. Right. I'll ask again when you can talk, then.' The voice was a little softer now, though not by much, suspicion still lacing every iota. The speaker was in shock, having never seen a Borg use facial expressions before, much less something as human as wincing. Maybe this one was different somehow, after all. But it was still a Borg, still the enemy, no matter how it acted. At least once it was well enough to survive the brig, it could be removed from his sickbay. Starvation, though... really? He'd always thought Borg plugged into walls, but this one seemed to need actual food, so maybe he'd been mistaken.

xxxx

The senior staff meeting was almost over when Captain Morgan raised a hand to quiet the murmurs of those who'd already been starting to move away.

'Doctor, what of your patient, the mechanical one, I mean?'

'The Borg? It's doing better than it was. It's almost ready to be moved, but I'd like to give it another day, see if I can get it to talk. Why?'

'I though it just had a head wound, what's taking it so long?'

'One of the worst cases of starvation I've ever seen. A few more days and he would have been in no state to _help_ anyone.'

'Starvation? How? Borg access energy from their surroundings, it shouldn't be possible for it to have starved. And doctor, it is still a Borg, not human.'

'That's the problem, Captain, the implants appear almost cosmetic. The nanoprobes are only found so far into his neural pathways, and no further. For all intents and purposes, I'd say he's human.'

'Then why not remove the implants? If it's as close to human as you say, then that would be the most sensible option, correct?'

'Simple. He is too old to survive the surgery with any reasonable prognosis of life. He _might_ survive, but the odds are not in his favour.'

'Jean-Luc was older, though.'

'Captain Picard also has an artificial heart. Therefore the danger was minimal. In this case, it would not be. I have removed the gun and the assimilation tendrils, so his hands are, at least, free. But at the moment, that's the best I can do.'

xxxx

'Hello, again. I know you're awake. Mind telling me your name now?' The doctor had got less waspish as time went on, and the Borg unit had yet to act in any way remotely resembling normal Borg behaviour patterns.

'My... name?' He still spoke in a hoarse whisper, when he spoke at all, which was seldom. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Call it, hmm, curiosity. You aren't really a particularly normal case, you know, and I think you'd rather be called by a name than merely 'Borg', or 'you'. Am I wrong, or am I right? Do you have a name, or would you like us to give you one until your blood clears enough to get reliable blood samples for a test? Your physiology is human, so you will at one point have had a name. What is it, do you remember?'

'I am Fifteen of Thirty Nine. That is what they called me.'

'No, not your Borg number, though I'm glad that you at least _have_ a name... of sorts. Did you ever have a human name?'

There was a look of deep thought on the newly named 'Fifteen's face as he contemplated his answer. 'I had a name, a long time ago, yes. But I'm not that person anymore; too much has happened in between. I have no idea how long it's been, or even, what year is this? So call me Fifteen, as long as I'm a Borg, it does. It has to.'

'It doesn't _have_ to do anything. Fifteen, sorry, but you're _not_ a Borg.'

'Anyone seeing me would disagree, Doctor. And it's important for me to be a Borg. There _are_ reasons, trust me.'

'Apologies, but I find that hard to do...'

xxxx

A day later and Fifteen was moved to a bare cell in the brig with a bed, a replicator programmed for basic rations and a few other essentials. He sat there, watching the force field eddy in its holder, wondering again exactly how it had come to this. Periodically people would come to his cell and stare at him, as though he was a new exhibit in a zoo somewhere. The same question was asked over and over again, who was he, what was his name. None of them ever actually talked to him beyond that one question, though, confirming his suspicions that he was still seen as nothing but another Borg. He knew it was necessary, but it still hurt.

'You're Fifteen, aren't you?' The voice was a new one, a woman in one of the strange uniforms, two pips on the collar.

'Yes. I am. And you?'

'I'm Francesca.' Her lips quirked slightly, 'how are you getting on?'

'I... am alright. I am coping.'

'Good to hear. I came to say thank you.'

'Thank you? For what?'

'You saved our lives back there, you know. Even if I don't know why. Why _did_ you save us?'

'Because. Because it was the right thing to do, because I couldn't just let them kill you.'

'They wouldn't have killed us, necessarily, we could just have become like you.'

A shadow flickered across his face at that, 'That's worse than death. Watching the others become, whatever it was we became... life is about choices. I chose. I could do nothing less.'

'They would have killed you, though, had they survived, but you knew that, didn't you?'

'Yes, I knew. I didn't care, saving people who still had the option of humanity was more important than one life, especially mine.'

'What do you mean, _especially_ yours?'

'I am Fifteen, and I am hated for it already. Whatever I did, I'm sorry for it, but I'm not sorry I saved your life.'

'It's nothing you did, it's just what you are, what you represent. The Borg _terrify_ people, Fifteen, they're scared of you.'

'_They_ are; you're not?'

'... no. Actually, I'm not. You don't act the way the Borg do, you see, you're human. Or at least you seem human. You certainly don't _look_ it, but still...'

'Thank you, I will try to live up to your expectations.'

'That's the point though, you use contractions, you use expressions, you use gestures, you're just as human as everybody else, so who are you? What happened to make you like this?'

'I am Fifteen, that's all that really matters. And I suspect what happened to me was what was going to happen to you, at least you fought them.'

'You didn't?' There was a note of pity in her voice now, and Fifteen winced again, visibly.

'I tried to. It wasn't very successful, we weren't armed with anything but what we could find. At least you had weapons. At least you had a fighting chance. I... they took her, too.'

'Who? Who did they take, Fifteen? A friend of yours?'

'Of a sort. We were... colleagues, you could say, long ago. We were catching up together when it happened.'

'Is she still alive?'

'I don't know. There's no way of knowing, even if she is, she'll be just like the others, she won't be herself anymore.'

'You loved her, didn't you?'

'I don't know. I liked her, she was my friend, maybe it could have become more given time, but we didn't have it... I don't know.'

xxxx

'Captain, it's not fair to keep him locked up like a prisoner, he's done nothing wrong, he's showed no signs of trying to escape, and he acts just like any of us would in the same situation. I'm sorry, but you can't just keep him there indefinitely.'

'Lieutenant, he _is_ a borg, no matter how much you may deny the fact, it's still true. And he hasn't yet proven fully safe to my crew, so I cannot let him out.'

'And how can he prove that he's no danger locked up?' Another of the survivors, lieutenant commander Michaels joined in, 'Captain, we owe him our lives, and he isn't a borg, surely that should be obvious by now?'

Captain Morgan sighed, seeing that they weren't going to be shifted from their viewpoint, although he was still not certain it was the right one. 'Fifteen is a borg name, not a human one. That he uses a number as opposed to a name surely shows that he is a machine as opposed to a man.'

'Now, Captain, you _know_ that's not fair.' Even the doctor had joined in now, 'biologically he is human; he just has a few extra parts. Surely letting him out would do no harm?'

Morgan sighed at this. It wasn't just them, either. There were quite a few crew members who wanted to see him let Fifteen out of the holding cells, though he doubted even they were sure of just what they were meant to do with him once they did so.

'_If_ I let him out, and it is an if, what would you do with him? He'd just be in the way.'

'He could help, he has a unique viewpoint on Borg cubes, so he may be very useful fighting them.'

'Or he may be a mole and planning to kill us all, you do realise there's that possibility, too? Okay. Let him out. _But_, I want a tracking device on him at all times, I need to know where he is.'

xxxx

Fifteen looked up as the force field wavered and died. There was a look of puzzlement in his eye, as Captain Morgan stepped into his cell with two security officers flanking him.

'Right, you. You're free to go. _But_, you have to wear this. Otherwise you can just stay here, I'm not having you wander around my ship without my knowledge, got it, Borg?'

Fifteen nodded. He got it, alright. Or, at least he did for now.

Right, second chapter will be uploaded when it is uploaded. Reviews are always appreciated. xD


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. xD

Chapter II

Freedom, decided Fifteen, was really not all it was cracked up to be. Yes, he had the right to walk around places that weren't that cell, but he could only do it in the company of the security guards Captain Morgan had decided were to be his jailors. Everywhere he went, there were looks of hatred sent towards him, though, with no access to computer records, he could not be sure exactly why that was. From the mutters, he'd got the impression that he was something horrible, at least in their eyes, but they never stayed around long enough for him to work out why. No one would talk to him, with Francesca the sole exception, all he got were gestures and glares as he was shepherded around the ship. He had a room, of sorts, too, and whenever he wasn't expected to be a walking target, he was confined to it. He might as well still have been in the brig; it might have been more comfortable there.

xxxx

Francesca sighed, as she thought about the poor being known as 'Fifteen'. Even though it had been nearly a month since he was freed from the cell, he was still under armed guard. She didn't see the reasoning for it, but she was still a lone voice, no one else was arguing in his favour. From the comments she'd heard, very few of them even felt that he deserved the dignity of being assigned a gender, too many people were muttering darkly about 'it', or 'that thing'. Fifteen wasn't actually a Borg, she was sure of that, though how, she didn't know. She'd read about what to expect from a Borg after they'd encountered him, and he didn't fit any of the parameters the records set down for him. Yes, he had Borg implants and Borg armour, but his responses, his gestures, even his facial expressions were far too human.

xxxx

Morgan sighed as he read the latest report on 'the thing', as he called the twisted wreck of a being that some of his crew had been foolish enough to save. He may be able to pull the wool over the eyes of those he was around, but he was still a Borg, still a threat, still an abomination to the natural order of things. He may be useful, for now, as long as they still chased the cube, the thing had the potential to be of help. But as soon as the cube was caught, and destroyed, well. A few suicide missions may just be assigned to him, and to that annoying lieutenant that was protecting him. The best part of it was that no one could ever prove it. He'd done it several times before, to prune the Fleet of incompetents, he could do so again just as easily.

xxxx

And the ship kept closing in on the cube. At least one of the explosives they had planted had done its job and taken out the transwarp conduits, so it couldn't outrun them. Sooner or later, it would have to stand and fight.

xxxx

Fifteen stalked along the deserted corridor, the tracking device, temporarily disabled, still in his room. He knew that, if caught now, they'd probably kill him, but at this point, he no longer cared. They were closing in on the cube; he had to find a way back. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ just leave her there to die. He had to find an access port, somewhere he could patch through the shields long enough to beam over, grab her, and beam back. He also probably couldn't do this alone. Francesca had said her living quarters were on this level, and he knew that she was the only one who was ever likely to help him in this, the only one who even half-way trusted him. The only problem was that he had no idea which door was hers. And knocking on any other would probably get him killed, too. But he had to at least try to get her out of the clutches of those things. He had promised to protect her, after all. And no matter what he had become, he always kept his promises.

xxxx

Francesca woke up all at once, the dream she had been enjoying slipping away like mist on the hills. She didn't know why, but some inner instinct told her that she had to be somewhere, something was wrong, though who or what the problem was, she couldn't articulate. She'd always had flashes of these feelings, almost visions, but rarely this strongly, and never at night. Sighing to herself, she wrapped her Starfleet-issue gown around her and shuffled blearily over to the door, which opened, as always, to her touch. Looking down the corridor, she at first thought it deserted, but then a glint from one of the windows fell on black armour. _Fifteen._ But what was he doing here, why was he out of his room, little more than a cell despite her arguments that it was against all the conventions governing prisoner treatment. More importantly, _how_ had he managed to leave without tripping off the sensors? It should have been impossible for him to even be here.

'Fifteen? What are you doing here?' She whispered, the Borg's head shooting up at her question.

'Francesca? But why are you here? How are you, how did you know...?'

'That you needed me? I didn't. I knew _someone_ did, I didn't know it was you. What do you want?'

'I need to find a way back to the cube. I need to find her, I can't leave her there, they'll kill her. Whatever she's become I have to believe she's still the person I knew. I _have_ to.'

'How will you find her, though? Without any idea where to look... this isn't a suicide run, is it? Fifteen, you can't just kill yourself.'

'You're the only one who wouldn't celebrate my death at this point, and you're telling me I can't? I have to find her, Francesca. I can't live with myself if I don't even try.'

'You can't go alone.'

'I have to. Anyone going with me, they'll kill on sight. I have enough of whatever it is they did to me to pass as one of them, at least for awhile. It should be long enough. It has to be. But I need help. I need...'

'Weapons', she finished for him, 'and probably anti-grav mines, too. But if you raid the armoury then they'll know, and they'll go after you.'

'No they won't. They won't risk the certainty of assimilation by beaming directly into their hands. But I know the cube inside and out, I know where to hit to destroy it, you haven't a chance of doing it without me. If I die, so be it, at least I'll go down fighting. If I survive, promise me you will look after her. I know what they'll do to me, and I don't care as long as she's safe.'

'Fifteen, I... I promise, but try to stay safe? Please? I know you may not value your life, but at least try to come back?'

'I promise to try. That is all I can do.' The more formal language, again, seemed to erect an impenetrable barrier.

'How do we get to weapons, Fifteen? You need something to protect yourself, but the replicator won't replicate explosives.'

'I might be able to get them. It's not exactly legal, but if I don't then everybody dies, so...'

xxxx

Fifteen looked at the transmission device curiously, wondering if what he planned to do to it would work. It operated on a specific signal, so if he could *change* that signal, it would be tuned to... a smirk appeared on his face briefly as he fiddled with it. The tracking device suddenly dropped off the sensors, its signal tuned to something else. There. That should do nicely, and anyone listening at the other end would be in for one hell of a surprise. He had to move quickly now, though, before they started looking...

xxxx

'Where is it.' Morgan growled, his frustration getting the better of him

'Where is what, sir?'

'The Borg, what else. It should be in sickbay, but no one's seen it. Have you had any luck tracing the transmitter yet, Rolands? _I want it found._'

'Sir, we found the frequency, but...'

'But _what?_'

'Well, listen, sir...' He tuned his tricorder to the required frequency and a loud, off-tune wail filled the bridge.

'What in hell is _that_ supposed to be?'

'I think it's, it sounds like...'

'Sounds like what, lieutenant?' He snapped, eyes flashing with temper.

'Well, it sounds rather like bad Klingon opera, sir, though why we'd get that, I don't...'

'Turn it off, lieutenant, **now**. That is an order. All hands, if you come across the Borg, shoot it on sight, do you hear me? Shoot on sight.'

The bridge crew looked at each other in horror at this. The captain sounded like he was going insane, they couldn't just shoot someone for no reason, it was against everything they had ever sworn in Starfleet to uphold. That the suggestion was even tabled was horrifying, that he had made it an order? No. They may not like the creepy Borg drone, but he was still a being, still almost human, and they would not just execute him.

'But sir, surely you don't mean that? I mean...?'

'Mean it, Lieutenant? Of course I mean it. It's a Borg, it's an abomination, and it's less than an animal. Destroy it on sight. Do you hear me? _On Sight!_'

xxxx

The lieutenant hit the deck with a thump, as Fifteen stepped over the body.

'I am sorry, but it was necessary.' Moving quickly, he grabbed as many anti-grav mines as he could, and gently placed them, along with two phasers, in the sack he had bought with him. Shaking his head slightly at the scene, he pressed a button and was gone.

xxxx

'What do you _mean_ there are mines missing? Computer, locate, via serial number, all missing mines and deactivate them. _Now!_'

'Objects are not located on this vessel.'

'What? Wait, if they're not here... then...'

He stared at the Borg Cube on the viewscreen. If it had gone back, with explosives, then this might be even better. He suppressed a grin.

'Raise shields to maximum and keep them there. If that thing goes up, we don't want any last minute defections, now, do we?'

xxxx

Fifteen ran along the corridors, dodging curious drones as he went, placing the mines wherever he could along the way. He hadn't found her, and he was running out of time. He only had a few minutes left before they'd blow, taking the cube, and her, with them. He no longer cared if it took him too. There was a sound behind him, and he winced fractionally, trying to keep his features as frozen as possible. He was being chased, then? So be it. He placed the last of the mines and turned, willing to go out fighting if that was what it took. The person staring at him was familiar. It wasn't who he was looking for, the wrong gender for a start, yet they were familiar nonetheless. They also didn't seem to be aggressive. He was confused, but relaxed slightly.

'Fifteen? You are Fifteen, correct?'

'Yes, I am. You are...'

'Seventeen, I've been looking for you.'

'You, you're...'

'Like you, yes, we need to find Sixteen though, she's in the maturation chamber, seeing if they took children, too...'

'She's alive? You promise?'

'Yes, Fifteen, she is.'

'Come on, then, we need to hurry...'

They ran, again, the two of them looking more legitimate than Fifteen had alone. He'd already tossed the other Borg the extra phaser, in case there was any more trouble. Both were fully charged, as he hadn't bothered to use it to disable the one truly over-curious unit that had accosted him.

As promised, Sixteen was in the maturation chambers, hammering on the door to the only occupied berth. Said berth looked strange, slightly out of place amongst the others, almost as though it had been ripped from another cube. Their eyes meeting, Fifteen handed her his own phaser. She aimed it at the door and pulled the trigger, recoiling slightly as the place she had hit didn't so much melt as dissolve entirely. The door swung open, revealing a boy of about fourteen, his face already mostly covered with the implants all Borg had. He fell out of the chamber face first, the cables that had attached him to the berth looking like they'd been cut. As though they'd arranged this, Fifteen picked him up, holding him as gently as he could in his arms.

'Right, that's everything? We need to get out of... here...' He stared at the door, eye narrowed as another two units appeared, and slowly made their way over to the group. He tensed, noted that neither Sixteen nor Seventeen had and relaxed again slightly, not taking his eye off them for an instant. If they were a threat, they were all in trouble. He felt, rather than heard the first explosion, vibrating through the deck.

'We need to leave. Now. Seventeen, whoever you two are, I need you to trust me. Do you?'

'Trust you? No. Know we need to leave? Yes.'

'Right', now holding the teen one armed, he thrust his fingers into the solar plexuses of each of the male Borg, and began fiddling furiously with his jury-rigged transportation device.

xxxx

On the bridge of the Exeter, Lieutenant Francesca Banks barely repressed a smile. Someone was trying to break through the shielding. Fifteen was alive. She lowered the shields as unobtrusively as she could, and watched as five figures, not the two she had been expecting, materialised.

'Shields up. Now.' Breathing heavily and with a strange light in his eye, it was hard to disobey the order, even from Fifteen of all people. The shields were erected, and a few moments later, the explosions on board the cube were visible for all to see. With a final concussive flare, the cube imploded and was gone, leaving nothing but empty space where it had been.

xxxx

'**You**...' Morgan snarled, staring at the Borg he had hoped would blow himself up with the cube, standing bold as brass on his bridge with what looked, disgustingly, like a Borg _child_ in his arms, and four others, three unconscious, surrounding him. 'What are you doing back here? And why bring _that_ with you?'  
'What was I meant to do, I couldn't just leave them there, could I?'  
'Yes. Yes you could. Or better, you could have had the decency to die with them.'  
'I couldn't just let them die, not when they're like me, not when they're trapped like this...' He glanced meaningfully down at his black armour then back up into Morgan's face. 'I couldn't just let a _child _die!'  
'It's not a child, _scum_ it's an abomination, you all are.'  
But Fifteen had had enough. Laying the child carefully on the floor, he stood up and cocked a fist in one fluid movement.  
'You'd punch me, scum? Really? I could have you killed for this.'  
The first punch hit him in the nose, hard enough for a wettish squelching to echo on the bridge. The follow up caught him neatly on the point of the chin, knocking him out. There was silence for maybe half a minute as the crew stared at their captain, before someone began to clap. The clapping spread, as they gave him a standing ovation.  
'We couldn't have done it ourselves, of course, but thank you, Fifteen. He was acting most illogically.'  
A ghost of a smile flitted across Fifteen's face at that, before his eye rolled upwards in his head, and he slumped to the deck. In the chaos of the beam in, no one had noticed that he was injured, too, the right hand side of his armour slightly caved in, and a few flecks of blood shining on his lower lip.

'Oh shit. Medics, we need doctors. Now. Gets them directly to sickbay. Yes, all of them. Isolate Captain Morgan, we don't know what's with him, he just lost it on the bridge... and yes, I know they're Borg. They came with Fifteen. Put them in isolation wards too... just keep them away from each other, okay? And be careful with the child.'

xxxx

_Somewhere else..._

'Hmm, interesting. Why isn't this filed?'  
'It was sent in anonymously, and it's not tagged, so... we ignore anonymous stuff.'  
'Mind if I borrow this? I'm all curious now...'  
'Sure, go ahead, it's nothing we need...'

'Umm, guys, you might actually want to, y'know, _read_ this...'  
'What, but... we don't, do we have anyone anywhere near a Borg cube?'  
'Not that I know of... wait, no way... seriously?'  
'It's a report of a cube. From the inside. I think we may have a problem.'


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. xD

Unassimilated Chapter III

'You need a name you know.'

'What? I have one...' Fifteen said, distracted, still keeping vigil over the beds containing Sixteen and the kid he'd rescued. He had healed far quicker than they had, although both, as well as the other three, had had surgery, Sixteen's Borg attributes, too, were irremovable. The others now bore little resemblance to the drones they had been, though there were still traces of machinery around the eye that had been covered by the ocular implant, the left for Seventeen and Eighteen, and the right, like Fifteen's own intact one, for Nineteen.

'No, a real one. Not just a number... Fifteen you do realise that everybody knows you destroyed that thing single-handedly, right?'

'And? What's that got to do with anything? I'm Fifteen, that's all that matters.'

'You're as human as the rest of us, you need a human name. Now either tell me your real one, or we'll make one up. Actually, we'll wait until the others are awake, do it for all of you at once.'

'My name is Fifteen, Francesca, why does anyone care?'

'Because you destroyed the cube, you proved to the others you're not a Borg, and to be honest you saved everybody's lives. We'd all have died because of Captain Morgan's obsession.'

'Obsession? That does not sound good.'

'It's not, really, but... he wanted to destroy that cube. There are reasons he doesn't like you or the others, and I shouldn't be discussing this with you, because you're not part of the crew. Why do I keep forgetting that?'

'My apologies if I stepped over the line.' His tone was formal again and Francesca winced.

'You didn't really, and I suppose you deserve to know, after all, you were almost ki... attacked by him.'

Fifteen's eye narrowed slightly, catching the slip, but he didn't comment on it, instead cocking his head to one side and waiting for the rest of the tale.

'He lost someone at Wolf. A lot of people did, but ever since, he's hated any and all mentions of Borg. He can't stand the sight of you because you remind him of who he's lost, do you see, now?'

'Yes. I do. I will endeavour to keep out of his way as much as possible.' He sighed, then turned back to where the others lay. 'I have to be here when they wake up. Whatever it was that was in me is in them, too, though I'm not entirely sure what, or why that is. And I have to be here. I can't let her wake up alone, or the boy. It wouldn't be fair, especially not now.'

xxxx

The boy woke first, eyelids fluttering open to reveal stormy grey orbs. He had eyebrows now, and a very short crop of blondish hair. He scanned the room, eyes falling on Fifteen and freezing there. Then he screamed, long and loud. Fifteen flinched, visibly working to keep the horror that was spreading across his face in check.

'It's OK, kid; it's alright, you're safe now.'

'But... but... you, you're...'

'My name is Fifteen, I'm not going to hurt you, everything's fine.'

'No, it's not. You're one of _them_... you'll take me again. Where am I? Who are you? What...?'

'Fifteen, you need to leave.'

'But...'

'No. You need to go somewhere else, just for awhile. I know you're worried about her, but we need to calm the boy down, now...'

Fifteen left, his head bowed. The boy on the bed seemed to grow slightly calmer as he did so.

'He's really not going to hurt you, child. Now, do you have a name?'

'Papa? Where is he? Where's my father?'

The doctor closed his eyes and winced at that, 'I'm sorry child, if they took your father, he didn't make it.'

'They'll come for me again, they were just here...'

'No, that was Fifteen. He's harmless, well, mostly harmless. He's the reason you don't have to worry.'

'What? Why?'

'He blew up the cube. They can't come for you, kid, they're not there anymore.'

'They, they're really gone?'

'That's what I've been trying to tell you, kid, they've been totally blown away.'

xxxx

Fifteen was leaning on a wall just outside the sickbay doors, the horror he had tried to keep from his features now plainly visible.

'Fifteen? What's wrong?' It wasn't Francesca, but a male with the two and a half pips of a lieutenant commander.

'He hates me already, what if the others do, too?'

'Fifteen, he's just a child, he doesn't understand yet. Give it time, it'll be OK.'

'Will it, though? I mean, he hates me, most of you hate me and I _still_ don't know why...'

'Oh hell, you don't, do you. Didn't they give you access to the reasons? I mean they have to have done... you've been operating blind? That's horrible. The way we treated you must have...'

'Don't apologise, OK? Just tell me why I'm automatically the bad guy, why all of us are, and what's wolf?'

'Wolf 359 was a battle. A bad one, between the Federation and the Borg. A lot of people died in it, and a lot of ships were destroyed. As such, when we look at you, and probably the others, too, we think of that battle. The Borg as a whole _are_ terrifying, but that's not really an excuse. It _is_ why Francesca is right, though. You do need a name that isn't just your Borg number, you need some way of identification that is human, not that of a machine. And if you won't choose your own, then we'll have to do it for you. All of you.'

xxxx

'We have a problem. Fifteen didn't know, Captain Morgan never gave him access to anything, he wasn't proud of it, or boasting about being a Borg, and he certainly wasn't happy... he didn't even _know_ about Wolf. I had to describe it to him, and the look on his face was horrible...'

xxxx

Fifteen stayed by Sixteen's bedside. The boy, at least, wasn't reacting quite as negatively as he had been, though he still seemed to be looking at him a lot from the bed next to hers. The others had all woken by now, but she was still unconscious, still in danger. To have potentially come so close to saving her, to lose her now? No, it was insupportable. He held one of her limp hands in his own, and stared at her unmoving face, willing her to wake up. But she didn't.

xxxx

Silvery grey eyes fluttered open slowly, the world seeming at once too blurry and sharply delineated. Her eye starting to focus, she looked around. Had it worked, then? This didn't look like any part of the cube, but she couldn't see anyone from the position she was in. A sort of gasping sob came from the right of her bed, and she twisted, wincing in pain, to shoot a look in that direction, tensing on noticing that it was another unit, their head bowed. A wild hope welled for an instant, was that Fifteen? Had they all got out safely? But she'd seen the beam fall, even if no one else had, heard the crack as surely as though it had been her own body, seen the damage before the transporter had taken her. She vaguely remembered lights, noise, people in strange uniforms, and raised voices yelling various things that made no sense, but the memories were blurry, and didn't feel real enough to be her own, at least not yet.

'Hello?' She murmured; her voice rough too from lack of use. The other unit's head shot up and she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd know that eye anywhere. '... Fif...Fifteen, you, you're alright?'

'I am fine, but... you... you wouldn't wake up. The others did, but you wouldn't. I was worried about you.'

'My hands feel weird.'

'They removed the implements from them, they, at least, are normal. They said we're too old to have the rest of it removed though.'

'We are? The other three?'

'Four. And yes, they're mostly human again, we were the lucky ones, we survived that.'

'Then why are you so upset?'

'I killed people. A lot of people.'

'They would have done far worse damage, Fifteen.' It was Francesca again. 'Have you thought about my suggestion?'

'What suggestion?'

'Having a human name, at least temporarily...'

xxxx

'I still say this is a very bad idea. I am Fifteen, surely that's enough? It's a name after all.'

'Yes, but what sort of a name is Fifteen, really?

'Mine.' He glared at her, annoyed. 'It is what I choose to go by, therefore it is my name.' He gazed balefully at the bag, five tokens inside with names inscribed into them.

They'd gone with the 'S and J' naming system traditional to the Exeter, and had christened Sixteen 'Sarah' for the simple reason that no one could come up with five common male names beginning with that letter, and the J was far easier to work with.

'Yes, we all _weep _for ya, Fifteen, but you're having one. You're that worried, the others'll pick first, you get what's left, OK?'

'Okay? What part of I'm _Fifteen..._'

'You don't have a choice, you need a human name, at least as a part of your identity. If you don't have one, everybody's just going to see the Borg, and that's not fair.'

'I like being Fifteen. It's nice and it fits who I am now, a human name would just confuse things.'

'We can still call you Fifteen, but, whatever it is you call yourself, a human name will make you less frightening, less intimidating to others... well, maybe not _that_ much less intimidating...'

'Thank you for that, but...'

'You're not going to win this one, but seriously, the others will pick first, you get what's left.'

'Alright' He shrugged. 'But don't expect me to use it.'

'That's alright, the rest of us will...'

xxxx

'Child, would you like first pick?'

'I have a name, though... and I'm _not_ a child!'

'Yes, but we discussed this, it's easier for you to have a separate identity.'

The boy looked at the bag, fleetingly at Fifteen, who was leaning on the wall again and didn't notice, then back.

'Okay. I'll pick...' He rummaged around, before pulling out a single wooden token with the name Julian engraved in it. 'Julian? Really?' He pulled a face at the name, and almost dropped it back in before deciding against it. 'It's OK. I guess...'

'You can answer to it, then?' The boy, now 'Julian' nodded. 'Good. Nineteen, you're next.'

Nineteen stepped up, withdrew a token and stepped back, in total silence.

'Eighteen?'

'Sure, if I must.' He, too, grabbed the first token he touched, barely glancing at the name.

'Seventeen?'

Seventeen placed his hand in the bag for longer than the others had, as though he was deliberately selecting one of the two remaining tokens over the other. Finally, with a glance over at where Fifteen still stood, he withdrew his token, the name John carved into the surface.

'Right. One left. Fifteen, stop supporting the wall and get over here?'

'If I must.' He stared at the bag for a few seconds before sighing and pulling out the last counter. He stared at it then stalked back to the wall, his back to the others, muttering something that sounded both rude and in a language other than standard under his breath as he did so.

'Fifteen...' Francesca sighed, then looked at the others. 'Right. We know where two names went, the child is Julian, and Seventeen is John, but the others? Nineteen?'

The man held out his chip, wordlessly, Jo on its surface, still staring into nothing. Those around him shifted slightly in discomfort, knowing they should get him to a counsellor, but also that Morgan would forbid it as soon as he was awake again.

'Eighteen?'

He, too, held out the counter, muttering 'Jack' as he did so, his voice as quiet as Fifteen's own.

'Which leaves one name and one counter. Fifteen, why aren't you showing it?'

'Because, I told you, I'm Fifteen. That's all, and all I'll answer to.'

'Counter, now.'

With a long suffering sigh, he handed it to her, glaring as he did so.

'And James completes the set. Good.'

'What's so important about human names?' Eighteen asked, the first time he'd spoken more than a few words.

'We can relate to you better if you have names we can relate to. I promise we'll still call you by your numbers, if you prefer, as I know Fifteen will, but view them as, oh, extra names, if you will.'

'Ah, right then.'

'Please just call me Fifteen? As said, it _is_ the name I choose to go by.'

'You got the most common one of all, why are you complaining?'

'I'm not, I just... I'd rather be Fifteen than anything else, okay?'

'We'll see.'

xxxx

Captain Morgan came around gradually, noting with alarm that he was in isolation. He vaguely remembered that cube going up, but not much beyond that. Why he was in isolation, and heavily drugged by the smoky feeling in his head, he wasn't sure.

'Ah, feeling better now, Captain?'

'The cube's gone, hasn't it.'

'The cube has, yes.'

'But not the Borg?'

'No, he's fine.'

'Right.' His mind was furiously going through options. He couldn't risk just killing it now, but nor could he allow such an abomination to live. There was no way he himself could kill him, but there were always... other... options...

'My apologies for the outburst, I hate Borg, they killed my friends, and it's just...' He hated to seem weak, but for his plan to work, he had to.

'We know Captain, it's OK. You're emotionally stable now?'

'I think so. You know, I think we should make it... him, I mean... an acting lieutenant. He did save the ship, after all...'

There. He'd be a crew member, answerable to him, and far easier to dispose of...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own several of the characters, though as it is a mystery, I will not confirm their identities just yet, I don't think...

Unassimilated Chapter IV

'I'm still not convinced he knows what he's doing...'

'Who, Morgan? Of course he doesn't. But he'll do it regardless, and none of us can stop him... I'm technically outranked by a _Borg_ now... there has to be a reason for it.'

'There's always a reason, I mean, I like Fifteen as much as anyone can like a Borg, but he's not exactly Starfleet material, is he?'

xxxx

Fifteen was glaring again, touching the lieutenants pips that had been welded to his armour hesitantly...

'So what happens now?'

Morgan had excused himself immediately following the brevet 'promotion', a self satisfied smirk on his face that filled the others with a deep sense of unease. Whatever it was he was planning, it didn't look like it would be anything good and none of them were naive enough to believe that Fifteen would ever be a lieutenant in more than name.

xxxx

'They want _what?_' Fifteen choked out, eye very wide.

'The order came from higher up... they want the five of us on an away mission together. And yes, Fifteen, for some reason, that seems to include you...'

'... what? Wait, _what?_ But... we said it ourselves, he's not really a part of the crew, he isn't trained for this... _what?_' Francesca was horrified, her face slowly paling to a colour almost approaching Fifteen's own hue.

'Yeah, well, that was my reaction. Why the five of us?'

'The trouble-makers... guys, this may not be a real mission, you realise that, right? We may well not come back from this. Sorry, Fifteen, but there are a lot of people who'd be rather happy if you just died at this point, if you were just another statistic, if we all were. We were the only ones who complained about how they treated you, especially Francesca...' This was from Lieutenant Commander Michaels, the one who'd talked with Fifteen outside sickbay.

'But Sixteen, the kid, I can't just leave them unprotected.'

'They won't be. I can ask a few people to keep an eye out for them while we're gone. They won't harm the kid especially, because he's just a child. And Sixteen, no matter what else she is, _is_ a woman, and an unprotected one. _Is_ she your wife, by the way?'

'No, she's not. Part of me wishes, though...'

'You really aren't afraid of death, are you? I thought everybody was.' Francesca had a very odd look on her face as she said it.

'I'm not afraid of death, no. I'm afraid of leaving them alone, but death can't really be worse than this, can it?' He indicated his armour again, an ironic smile on his lips.

'You may have a point there, actually, lieutenant. Oh, this is going to be _interesting_, isn't it? I mean, it's hard enough for some people to look at you without just seeing, well, an enemy. Those pips won't change that much, really, will they? And wherever we are, wherever we go, you're going to be a target, merely because you _look_ like a Borg, and they figure prominently in a hell of a lot of nightmares...'

'Thank you for that one, Ryan, I think he knows, you know... Fifteen may be many things, but he isn't exactly stupid.'

'He is standing right here... why do you persist in talking about me in the third person when I'm here?'

'We're not. Well, we are, but, I'm sorry, we'll try not to.'

'Thank you.'

The transporter was mostly full, the five members of the away team in various states of nervousness, when the doors hissed open, and Seventeen joined them on the pad. Fifteen turned, but could do little more than stare at him before the beam took them all.

xxxx

'What are you doing here, you should be with the others, Seventeen.'

'You needed me, Fifteen.'

'No, I didn't. We'll be OK, why did you come?'

'I... I do not know. I just knew that there was something about you. Were we, what is it called, friends, once?'

Fifteen sighed, 'We are now, which is what matters. But seriously, why did you come?'

'Can you two do this somewhere else, please? Only that does _not_ look good...'

The sky was beginning to darken, ominous flashes of greenish light in the distance and a hot, sticky feeling to the atmosphere.

'Oh shit, ion storm... the phasers'll be useless in a few minutes, even if we're in trouble, we'll never be able to contact the ship.' Lieutenant Barker's voice shook slightly as she said this, her eyes wide with sudden surmise.

'We need to get under cover. It's the only way we'll survive the winds. And we need to avoid the natives as much as possible, too, they don't like Starfleet... and they'd shoot Fifteen on sight.'

'To be fair, most people would, I mean, we know he's not actually a Borg, nor particularly aggressive, but no one seeing him would assume that, they'd only think the worse. Did anyone think to research what sort of weapons we'd be facing if they found us? And I think we were right, you know, every sign would indicate a suicide mission.'

Fifteen growled. 'I should have snapped his neck when I had the chance.'

The others edged away slightly at that, the reminder that he was still dangerous, even if he was human as opposed to Borg echoing in their heads.

Fifteen flinched as he noticed this, but continued walking, head down, staring at the ground instead of meeting anyone's eye.

'That wouldn't have solved anything, lieutenant, they would have killed you, or at least have had you locked up somewhere for the foreseeable future. And that would be neither a good thing, nor a fair thing. So no, I'm glad you didn't kill him.'

'He may have killed us, though,' spoke up the last member of the away team, lieutenant Galli, whose purple-ish skin tone and non-standard first name spoke of alien blood, although he never mentioned it and seemed to rejoice in the Italian side of his ancestry. No one knew much of his past, and what little of it _was_ known was circumstantial at best.

'We need to find shelter. Ah. There.' He pointed to a cave a few feet distant, just now visible through the rapidly darkening air.

They piled inside; there was barely room for them all, even standing as close together as it was possible to do. Fifteen muttered something under his breath and stepped out. At least with one less it might be slightly more comfortable, and besides, he'd noticed something... interesting... about the surrounding landscape.

xxxx

The storm itself passed relatively quickly, though the effect on their equipment was likely to last for quite a while. The cave itself had been pitch black, and it took a lot of blinking for their eyes to readjust to the sudden light outside. It was only then that they realised Fifteen wasn't with them.

Before they began organising a search party, one of them noticed a dark shape a few metres distant, seemingly hunched over on the ground.

'Fifteen? Fifteen, are you alright?' Francesca called, worry tingeing every syllable. 'Why are you out here, why didn't you stay with the rest of us?'

'There wasn't room, and I am the one of us who was least vulnerable to the storm. My armour does have its uses, after all. Besides, I wanted to see if what I'd noticed could help in any way.'

The others drifted over to them, looks of confusion on their faces.

'Umm, Francesca, why is the Borg...' he stopped, blushing slightly, an interesting effect that made the purple pinker. 'Sorry, Fifteen, why are you playing in the dirt?'

'I'm not. I was seeing if I could utilize certain natural parts of the environment in order to assist us in protecting ourselves.' He indicated the pile of interestingly coloured soil in front of him.

'What is that, exactly, what did you do to it?'

'Oh, just combined a few things. If I've got it right, and I can't guarantee it, it should be a workable explosive. You said the phasers won't work in this, and you're right, they won't. But this should.'

'You made an _explosive?_' This was said incredulously, as the others eyed the pile apprehensively. 'And that will actually work?'

'It should do. It's an experiment of sorts...'

'Oh, so you were an inventor before...'

'No. I studied a lot of history, it was in something I read back then. It seemed to be potentially useful. Hopefully it will be.'

'It should. However, I think, no offense, we'd probably feel more comfortable if it's in someone else's custody. It may well be better for you, too. If we get attacked, whoever has the explosive will be very visible, after all. Also, if it gets out that you can make explosive devices, surrendering it to us would be preferable.'

'Umm, Fifteen, how did you learn this? You said you read about it, so it's not something the Borg know that transferred?'

'No, it was a survival course, or part of one, I took back when I was still human. Part of it was on primitive weapons, I was curious, so I researched it and found this. As said, it should help.'

He stepped away from the pile, lieutenant Galli taking his place, and towards the others, who relaxed slightly. He winced slightly at the relief their body language appeared to express. They were trying, and he knew that they were trying, but it was still hard, knowing that they were wary of him, and may always be, no matter what action he took.

'Right, spread out. We need to evaluate the environment, and try to observe the natives without coming to their notice. Ah, Fifteen, it may be best if you stayed here, out of their way. Whether they recognize you as a Borg, or not, they're likely to think you either a grave threat or, ahem, rather the opposite. Neither one would be particularly good for the mission. Oh, and try not to make more of that stuff, you think we have enough?'

'Understood. And yes, you should have. Do you know how to use it?'

'It's flammable, correct?'

'Highly.'

'Then yes, I suspect we've read some similar books, we just need to find some way to launch it, though that shouldn't be hard.'

'Remember, sharpened stakes are good as a defence, depending on the state of technological advancement of the natives.'

'It's not high, and understood. Stay here, we'll leave you a combadge, just in case we can contact you at any point. Oh, and lieutenant? Thank you. Seventeen, you're with us.'

'You're welcome.' He watched as they walked away, he had a very bad feeling about this...

xxxx

'This... may not have been a good idea.'

'Ya think?'

The natives had seen one of them, they still didn't know who, and reacted in typical fashion. The five of them were now incarcerated in one room, heavily guarded, though not particularly securely.

'Is there a point in trying to contact Fifteen again? Even if we did, they'd just get him too.'

'The sight of him may make them try to kill us all, so no.'

They had been relieved of the pouches containing the explosives, which thankfully the natives appeared to have no idea how to use, though they were being treated as dangerous as they had seen what they could do, even though not how they did it. Each of them had been roughed up slightly, with the sole exception of Seventeen, the metal around his eye appearing to have fascinated, or scared them enough to leave him alone. They didn't seem to have been phased by Vaar's skin, however.

There was a concussive blast, then suddenly a new 'door' appeared in the wall. Through it, they could see a familiar shape, smiling wryly.

'Fifteen? What... how...?'

'I don't know if I can explain it, I just knew you needed help, and when I saw the guards, I knew you had to be inside.'

The natives had taken one look at Fifteen, or rather his armour, and fled.

'Oi, the Prime Directive's well and truly screwed now.'

'It was when we were captured.' Francesca pointed out, 'And it wasn't like he could get through the door, now, was it? With us on the inside and him on the outside, they could just have barricade themselves, and us, in here. With him in here, the only logical way to escape would be to run, after all.'

'I couldn't just leave you here. Coming?' He gestured at the hole, sinking into a, highly ironic by the smirk on his face, bow as he did so. They shrugged and followed him through.

'I do _hope_ that was it for the explosives, lieutenant', Michaels muttered.

'I gave you all I made. For some reason the natives seem a little scared, you could say, of me. When they ran they tended to drop anything they were holding. We're missing one pouch, I only found four.'

'There were only four, Fifteen. That's all of it? Great. That way at least there won't be proof, though I dread to think what they'll make you out to be.'

'Yeah, so do I, come to that. Rather glad we won't find out. Do you think we can contact Exeter yet, or should we go back to the cave?'

'No... contacting them is probably our best bet.

xxxx

Once they were all safely back on the ship, Fifteen cornered Seventeen in a room that quickly emptied under his glare.

'Why did you come, you were safe there?'

'No offence, sir, but none of us are safe around Morgan.'

'Good point, but still, why did you follow me, and _why_ are you calling me sir?'

'Because you needed me, and because it seems right, it's a mark of respect, after all.'

'I would have been fine on my own, and why respect, we're the same, remember?'

'But I didn't know that. I think I'd follow you through hell, you saved all of us back... there... after all.'

'I couldn't just leave you there to die, and you helped me find the others.'

'But Eighteen and Nineteen did not, yet you still took them with you.'

'They asked for help.'

'Exactly, it's because of what you are, I think.'

'What I am? I'm just Fifteen...'

'You're not just anything, it doesn't work that way. You seem to be the sort of person who protects others, with very little thought to yourself. Whoever you were, or are, I am proud to serve with you.'


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. Also, apologies for the wait.

Unassimilated Chapter V

News of Fifteen's ability to make explosives had spread quickly. This caused panic in people at first, until it was pointed out that he'd done this with basic materials, that there was surely superior available onboard ship, yet no one had yet been blown up, so they were probably safe.

'Think for a second, guys; why would he draw attention to the fact that he can make those things if he wanted to catch us unawares? He's not stupid, he'd've done it before we even knew he _could_ do it. I strongly suspect we're safe, after all, blowing up the ship would kill his wife and kid, too...'

'I'm still not convinced they are...'

'What else could they be? They have to have some strong connection to him, or he'd never have rescued them in the first place, and you've _seen_ the way he acts around Sixteen, surely they have to be... well, partners, at least...'

'Morgan did make him a lieutenant, though.'

'Yes, then sent him on an away mission to a planet with hostile natives _in the middle of an ion storm_... I sincerely doubt he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart. Besides, Fifteen doesn't really act like a Starfleet officer, now, does he?'

'Risking himself to go and find the others weren't the actions of a Starfleet officer, ensign?'

'No, well, _yes_, but... something just doesn't feel right, you know?'

xxxx

'Captain, Ambassador Koloth wishes to speak with you.'

'Ambassador... Koloth? Interesting,' a germ of an idea had worked its way into his mind at this. 'Onscreen.'

'Ah, Ambassador, a pleasure to speak with you. You had a problem?'

Koloth rolled his eyes. 'There is a ship full of delegates on their way, I would appreciate it if you did not interrupt them.'

'Ah, we may be able to come to some sort of arrangement regarding that...'

'Arrangement, _what_ arrangement, I am requesting Starfleet's help.'

'A prisoner transfer, of sorts.'

'Prisoner transfer? I have no prisoners, and even if I did, I would not yield them to you...'

'Oh, no, Ambassador, rather it is one of our prisoners that I make available to you.'

Before anyone could react, he hit a button. Fifteen jerked as he felt the transporter energy take him, Sixteen staring, horror struck. Where he would end up, he did not know.

Koloth's eyes widened as his ship registered transporter energy punching through his shields.

'Who have you beamed aboard my vessel, Morgan. And why?'

'A prisoner I felt you were better able to, let's say, deal with. You can kill it without repercussions from Starfleet. What they don't know won't hurt them.' Behind him, several of the bridge crew looked horrified, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the old Klingon.

'I will NOT just kill someone, Morgan.'

'It is a Borg.' He watched in satisfaction as a look of fury appeared on the General's face as the words sunk in. Unfortunately, said fury was not directed in the path Morgan had been hoping.

'You beamed a _Borg_ onboard my vessel? Morgan, if my crew is assimilated through this betrayal, they will sing songs of your fate for a thousand years.'

The transmission cut off, even as Koloth started to wonder. It was strange, if the prisoner was in fact a Borg, that Morgan's own crew appeared entirely intact. Yes, he would talk with this Borg before deciding what actions, if any, he would take.

xxxx

'Ambassador, I was informed there was a _parcel_ for you from the Exeter. It appears to be a Borg and we have it held under tractor restraint. What are your orders?'

'Continue to hold it as you are, but do not hurt it further, I will be with you shortly.'

Koloth marched onto the deck holding the prisoner, whose head was bowed away from him. Fifteen's limbs shook from the effort of not just slumping to the deck in defeat. He wasn't beaten yet, if he could only get them to _listen_...

Observing the prisoner closely and speaking slowly enough that if there was any assimilated knowledge of Klingon, he may get the gist of it, Koloth started musing aloud...

'I want to know why Captain Morgan won't do his own dirty work, instead asking me to do it for him. I wonder if the death of this _Borg_ might just cause an interstellar incident. I dislike the idea that Morgan feels like _he_ can manipulate _me_...'

Fifteen twitched violently a couple of times during the musings, a fact that did not escape Koloth's notice.

'Look at me, Borg, I know you understand me, though I do not know how. We can force you, you know.'

Sweating with the effort, Fifteen raised his head, his one organic eye meeting Koloth's two.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, each weighing the other against expectations than no longer seemed valid.

'Release the Borg into my custody.'

'Are you sure, Ambassador, I mean it's...'

Koloth raised a hand, cutting off the argument, as the tractor beam blinked out of existence.

'This Borg has no more desire than I do to cause an interstellar incident, I do not think.' Turning to Fifteen and raising an eyebrow, he added 'Have you, whoever you are?'

'My name is Fifteen. And no, I do not.' Although Fifteen's answer was in standard, the fact that he had understood them raised more than a few eyebrows amongst the rest of the crew.

Fifteen followed Koloth off the deck and down a corridor, when Koloth stopped, turning to him;

'For your own safety, as well as for the well-being of my crew, Fifteen, I require you to wear a tracking bracelet while you are here. Do you consent? It will mean that you cannot stray too far from me, however it will also place you under my direct protection. My crew will not question it. Do you consent?'

'If you believe it to be necessary.'

'I do.'

'Then yes, I will.'

xxxx

'Ambassador, I was wondering if you would contact us again...' Morgan looked smug, most of his bridge crew, however, appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

'There are others?' This was said bluntly.

'Other prisoners, yes.'

'Other _Borg_...'

'Yes, there are, but if you want them you'll have to take the others too.'

'What others?'

'Four of my officers, under arrest for breaking the prime directive. Of course, I cannot do anything to them, but you...'

'That is your price?'

'For your revenge, yes, it is.'

'Then so be it, transport the prisoners across to my vessel.' The view screen went dark. He glanced at Fifteen, who looked stunned, then left, the bracelet forcing the Borg to follow.

'Ah, more guests. Fifteen, go and join the others, would you?'

'Yes, sir.'

Koloth looked at the others, eyes widening at Sixteen, then narrowing as he saw Julian, his face contorted in fury, matching that of the other Klingons present. All the hostages closed ranks at that, trying to back away from the impending explosion. Fifteen alone stood separate, having noticed the direction of Koloth's glare.

'A child? Morgan sent me a _child_? With the implied order that it be killed? That I kill a _child? _He thought I would be so lost to honour as to...? That is conduct unbecoming to a Starfleet officer. It just _proves_ my theory that Morgan is a cowardly scum not worthy to draw _breath..._'

Fifteen muttered, 'Moron, he's a moron' under his breath, and Koloth smiled coldly.

'I like that, I like that a lot. But even that is an inadequate explanation as to why he would expect me to do his dirty work for him and to harm the crew he should be protecting, but to insult the honour of the entire Klingon race to imply that we would kill a child prisoner. Children should not be prisoners.'

Sixteen looked like she would have stepped in front of the boy, but for Fifteen's miniscule negative movement. Something that also did not escape Koloth's notice.

'So. Only one of you understands Klingon, then? You may tell your fellow... refugees... what it is I just said, Fifteen.'

'Yes sir.'

'Do not call me sir. You are not my crew, you are under my protection, but none of you will call me sir, do I make myself clear?'

Fifteen nodded, then began to explain the meaning behind Koloth's words, the four humans staring at him, shocked.

'Fifteen, where did you learn Klingon, and why?'

'I was interested in languages, I speak several, Klingon is just one of them.'

xxxx

Koloth was in the middle of the room, talking to the refugees, when it happened. Fifteen opened his mouth to answer a question, instead letting out a gasp, as his form started to glow, once more, with transporter energy. Koloth let out a startled yell as the Borg vanished. The yell bought several of his crew barrelling through the door, only to stare, helplessly, at the empty space where Fifteen had been moments before. He needed to contact Starfleet, immediately.

xxxx

'Ambassador Koloth, it's an honour, what's the matter?'

'Were you aware that your... captain... Morgan, sent me ten prisoner's including a _child_ with the expectation that I would _kill them_? Four of those prisoners are members of his bridge crew who he claimed had broken the Prime Directive. I believe that the correct procedure in that case would be a reprimand or possibly a report. Instead he gave them to me, amongst others, under the guise of prisoners. I have taken them as refugees and given them sanctuary aboard my vessel.'

'Before I say anything else, Ambassador, I thank you for the honour that you do us. Morgan is, frankly, an embarrassment...'

'Why did you give him Exeter if you had any inkling of just how lost to honour he is?'

'Because he was technically in the running for Enterprise and he had several, admittedly corrupt, admirals in his corner. We decided that it was better to give him a ship where he could cause less damage, thus Exeter. You can see the disaster giving him Enterprise would have been? He never gave us reason to remove his command, even after the corrupt officers were... excised. He has now, however, done so.'

'Ah. I wish you luck in removing this blot on your reputation. Unfortunately, one of these refugees has been illegally removed from my custody via a hidden transportation device, and he is being held hostage, I presume by Morgan. I need your help getting him back.'

'Hostage? Why?'

'Morgan dislikes him... intensely. Out of, let us say, courtesy, I am informing you of my intent to do so before I look for him.'

'We will help. Is he one of ours?'

'So I believe. He was _once_ one of yours, though perhaps not in his present incarnation. _But _if he has harmed one atom of Fifteen's being...'

'Fifteen sounds like a Borg identification.'

'That would be because it is.'

'Then why are you helping him?'

'He is, what do you humans call them, a friend.'

'You're friends with a Borg?'

'Yes, I believe that I am. But your captain moron, sorry, Morgan, has him hostage.'

'Well, moron's one way to describe him, Ambassador, though I am surprised you thought of it... you said this Fifteen was one of ours?'

'He _is_. Morgan made him an acting lieutenant and proceeded to send him, along with these others on what I believe to have been a suicide mission.'

'Did he, indeed?' The admiral closed his eyes, wincing at the thought.

'Key word being 'acting', of course.'

'So he is not, in fact, one of ours?'

'I do not see why that is important, Admiral, though I would beg to differ. But we have wasted enough time. Will you help, or won't you?'

'We'll help. But you'd better have a damn good explanation for this one, Ambassador...'

'Oh, and Admiral? It was he who first called your Captain Morgan by the name of moron.'

'Indeed? I almost look forward to meeting him, he sounds most intriguing, most unlike a Borg, wouldn't you say?'

'His body appears to be that of a Borg, his mind, however, is not.'

'You are sure of this, Ambassador? I do not wish to insult you, however it is rather hard to believe.'

'I believe, in his case, that assimilation failed, although I do not know precisely why.'

'Then I will put together a team. We will find your friend.'

'I am going with them.'

'What? But Ambassador...'

'No. He is under my protection, my honour would never allow me to stand aside while others risk danger to save him. I am going, I owe him that. I do not think we will only find a body. Your Morgan is more likely to keep him alive to torture than to kill him outright.'

The admiral winced. 'Under the circumstances, Ambassador, I would have to agree with you.'

The conference ended, leaving Admiral Tyler thoughtful. Who could he pull together who would both work with Klingons and not merely shoot Koloth's... _friend_ on sight?

xxxx

He surveyed the room, fully aware that the majority may still refuse to go on this particular rescue mission, but knowing that he had to try.

'You have been chosen for this mission because you are used to working with Klingons and to hostage retrieval. Also, none of those present have an overly itchy trigger finger, which will be a great asset to the mission itself.'

'Who are we working with, and who are we to retrieve, Admiral?' The speaker was a woman, heavy-set and heavy-jawed, with a crew-cut that had been bleached almost white.

'Ah, Hannah, thank you for speaking up. You will be working with Ambassador Koloth...' he broke off briefly as shocked whispers flooded the room, as they subsided, he continued. 'In order to retrieve a special hostage, currently, we believe, held prisoner aboard the USS Exeter. The prisoner gives the appearance of being a Borg, however, Ambassador Koloth and others have been in association with him, and have not been assimilated. More, the Ambassador assures me that, for all intents and purposes, Fifteen is human.'

xxxx

'If he's a Borg, even if he just looks like one, wouldn't it be a mercy kill?' This was said in a whisper, the team now aboard Koloth's vessel for his own briefing. Unfortunately it wasn't quiet enough and Koloth's eyes narrowed. He had heard.

'I assure you,' he growled, 'it would neither be merciful, nor _acceptable_ of you to do so. In the short time I have known him, Fifteen has become my friend. He is also under my protection, and as such, killing him would be an insult to my honour. Do you dare insult my honour?'

'No... no, sir', the lieutenant visibly trembled under the force of his glare.

'Good. That fills me with, not confidence precisely, but hope that we _may_ be able to work together. I believe it would be fitting of you to meet the others of those sent to me, to truly get a sense of the being we are to rescue.'

xxxx

The group drifted over to the hostages, visibly far more comfortable with those in Starfleet uniforms. Koloth's eyes narrowed slightly at the way they tried to avoid Sixteen's gaze. This would not do, it wouldn't do at all.

'You will have to talk to _all_ the hostages. If you cannot be comfortable around Sixteen, then you will not be so around Fifteen. If any of you truly feel you cannot cope, then you will not be coming on this mission. It won't count as a black mark against you, but you cannot be trusted to rescue Fifteen if you cannot even _talk_ to him.'

Reluctantly, they started to include Sixteen in their discussions, but from his vantage point he could see the pale faces, they shaking hands, the swallowing against their own nausea. While a lot of the group seemed able to overcome it relatively quickly, there were several, who even after half an hour, were visibly having problems. Koloth sighed to himself, the rescue force would obviously be smaller that he had hoped.

He beckoned to those he could see were still having major problems.

'Giving you credit for trying, I do not think you are succeeding in seeing the person behind the armour, and as such, I respectfully relieve you of the duty to come on this mission.'

Most of those he had called over looked relieved, but one young man with ensign's pips visibly clenched his teeth and went back for another go. Koloth nodded to himself at that, if he was truly that determined to overcome it, he wasn't going to stop him.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything or anyone in this fic. Paramounts.

Unassimilated Chapter VI

Fifteen came back to consciousness slowly, flat on his back, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He couldn't feel anything much below his neck and his shoulders felt _painfully_ numb. He could blink his eye, and look from side to side. His sense of smell was working, by the sharp scents in his nostrils and the vaguely metallic taste in his mouth. Though his nose itched, no matter how much he tried he could not raise his hand to scratch it. He tried to speak, but his jaw sent a lance of pain reverberating through his head, and he gave up. He would never know exactly how long he spent staring at that plain, unadorned ceiling.

xxxx

An automated voice broke into his reverie. It sounded like Morgan, but he couldn't see him, no matter how much he tried.

'This ceiling you're watching is the only thing you'll see between now and your death, Borg scum. Don't try to scream, I doubt you can, and even if you could, no one would hear you. You'll die here, surrounded by the others. And no one will ever even look for you. No one cares, scum. No one ever did.'

The recording shut off with a click, proving that he'd been right and he was alone. He lay there, helpless, concentrating every fibre of his being on attempting to move. In his trance-like state time did not exist, he was too focussed on willing his body to respond. Eventually he could feel the very tips of his fingers rubbing against each other, the tingle spreading, and rejoiced that at least this was _feeling_, painful, yes, but feeling nonetheless. Suddenly it felt like his entire body was on fire, the adrenaline rush seeming to have cut through the tendrils of whatever it was Moron had drugged him with. His arms ached, dully, like old breaks tend to, and his jaw was still painful, in a strange, far away sort of way.

Although he could probably have moved, he was content to watch his own chest rise and fall, listen to his heart beating, which he'd been too busy to notice before. Slowly, he moved his head to one side and froze. There was a person in the corner, in much the same position he was, dressed in a uniform half-gone to rag. They were obviously dead, though the flesh seemed oddly well preserved from what he could see of it. Horrified he turned his head away, only to see another. He sat up carefully, wincing as various aches made themselves known and slowly looked around the room. From what he could see, there were at least five bodies. He became aware of a gradual rise in temperature, as the ships mechanisms became aware of his presence. Lights flickered on overhead, illuminating the full horror that surrounded him. Six bodies, not five, perfectly preserved, looks of horror frozen on their faces. Obviously, whatever it was Morgan had administered had never been meant to wear off. He tried to stand, biting back a scream as his ankle gave way beneath his weight. He could see the door, though he had realised by now that it was probably sealed. For the time being, he was trapped in what he strongly suspected was Morgan's morgue.

xxxx

'Message from Starfleet, sir, they request your presence in transporter room one, incoming party.'

Morgan huffed, and muttered, 'Commander Bainbridge, you have the bridge.'

As he exited, the bridge crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.

'Computer', the commander muttered, almost furtively, 'visual from transporter room one onscreen.'

The room was empty as Morgan entered, with the exception of the transporter operative, then the hum of a beam in sounded. First one group, then another appeared, phasers in hand, the light glinting off Starfleet uniforms in all three colours. They could hear Morgan spluttering incoherently as the third group appeared. There was a shocked gasp from the watchers as they realised that this group were Klingon, dressed in their own uniforms as opposed to that of Starfleet. They were all of an age, with the exception of the commanding, grey haired figure of Ambassador Koloth, who had his own space, a little pocket where no one else would walk. The bridge crew broke out in mutters, as they wondered, aloud, just what was going on, hat he, of all people, would be there.

Koloth looked at Morgan through narrowed eyes, his body stiff, his anger almost a physical presence of its own.

'I am Ambassador Koloth.' He held a warrant out, almost daring Morgan to try and take it from him. 'A copy of this is already in your computer banks. This is my authority, backed by Starfleet, to search your ship.'

'It's _my_ ship, you have no authority here.'

'It is no longer your ship, while this search is going on, you are under arrest, on suspicion of kidnap and false imprisonment, do not add resisting arrest to your charges.' As he said it, he gestured to two of his men, who stepped to either side of the furious Morgan, grabbed his arms and restrained him. He turned to the transporter chief, who was trying, unsuccessfully, not to smile. 'Would you be so kind as to escort us to the Bridge? We will bring... that... with us.'

'Yes sir, right away sir. May I ask...'

'I would prefer to say this only once, so you may accompany us onto the Bridge.'

'Yes, _sir_...'

xxxx

'Ambassador on the Bridge.'

The bridge crew came to attention as one as Koloth strode forward.

'I am Ambassador Koloth. By Starfleet's authority, I now have command of this vessel.' He nodded towards the screen, the transporter room still visible on it. 'You will have seen me present the warrant to your... ex... Captain Morgan.' He noticed that, though Bainbridge was visibly working to control his face, most of the rest of the bridge crew looked pleased at this outcome. To the sound of a muttered _yes_ in the background, Koloth continued. 'Your ex-Captain Morgan placed into my custody a group of... _beings_ and I have reason to believe that he would not have been displeased had I disposed of them. However, I took them into my custody, under the protection of the Klingon Nation. One of them, I believe you call him Fifteen, was removed without warning or permission from said custody. As such, I have Starfleet's authority to search this ship from top to bottom, until I find him.'

Commander Bainbridge, face pale, spoke up, 'With all due respect, Ambassador, why do you believe he has been removed to the Exeter, Captain Morgan seemed happy enough to see him go.'

'After his, shall we say unconventional, removal; we discovered the other refugees had tracker devices linked _to this ship_. Therefore, as the Vulcans would say, it is logical that he has been removed to this ship as only this ship was in any position to either place, or indeed activate, such devices.'

He turned to Morgan, his body language proclaiming his utter disgust. 'I hold you responsible for the actions of your crew. You had better hope we find Fifteen alive, or you will, by Starfleet's authority, find yourself subject to _Klingon_ justice in this matter. YOU committed them to me, therefore it pertains to my _personal_ honour. Do you have anything to say in mitigation?'

Morgan sneered at him, viciously. 'You can search all you like, you won't find _it_ alive.'

Koloth's eyes flashed at the admittance. 'I find that pronoun most illuminating as to your state of mind. I find your sheer foolishness indicative of insanity and such I will enter into my report. You will be lucky if you ever captain so much as a _garbage scow_ again. Now where is Fifteen.'

'I don't have to tell _you_ anything, you filthy Klingon bastard.' His head rocked to one side as one of Koloth's team slapped him, hard, around the face. Koloth looked askance at her.

'It is how I was taught to deal with hysteria, Ambassador.' Koloth raised an eyebrow and waited. 'I must admit however, that it was most gratifying.'

'Thank you... Hannah, I believe?' The woman nodded, 'However, I doubt that it will restore his sanity, however tempting it may have been. As it happens, Moron, your ship boasts very powerful computers, and I have the Starfleet codes necessary to override and remove any clumsy attempts you may have made at covering your tracks.' The bridge crew were no longer even attempting to hide their grins. Koloth, ignoring them, turned to Bainbridge. 'I believe there is a slot suitable for me to insert the codes I was provided?'

'Of course sir, though I would willingly give you mine.'

'Thank you for that offer, however I believe we would be advised to keep this official.' He placed the override codes carefully in the reader, the disembodied voice coming to life around them.

'Voice print recognition?'

'This is Ambassador Koloth. I have authority.'

'Voice print recognised. State orders.'

'I wish an audit of every individual on board this vessel.'

'Completed.' A plan of the ship, in detail, covered in little red dots, appeared on the screen.

'Remove from audit those within either the rooms they are assigned or within the areas of the duties.'

'Removed.' The majority of the dots vanished.

'Remove those off duty in leisure facilities.'

'Removed.' There was a thin scattering of dots left, no more than twelve, left.

'These are our targets. We will go after them in groups. Computer, set locator beacons in each occupied room, group them in order of proximity and show traffic to rooms in the past month.'

The traffic stats flashed up, none of them high. Koloth nodded to himself, one eye on Morgan as the indicated the three closest rooms. 'These are our first targets.' He then indicated the next set. 'These are our second. And these are our...' He broke off, having noticed Morgan twitch. 'In fact, change of priority, we will take these first. My team to me. Hannah, you impressed me, you are coming too, do you understand?'

'Yes sir.'

'Right. The rest of you will remain here. Bridge crew, you are not under arrest, however you are under orders not to intervene or to try to access computers.' He turned to the two Klingons still holding Morgan. 'You are responsible for his continued existence. You are to keep him under restraints at all times. Team, let us move, as you humans put it.'

xxxx

Fifteen stared at the door, knowing it was his only way out, that he had to get there. He tried, again to stand and again his ankle buckled. He automatically threw out a hand to break his fall and barely bit back the scream as he felt something shift in his arm. Walking wasn't a possibility, and from the protest various other parts of his body were making, neither was crawling. He muttered something very rude under his breath and shifted position carefully, using the floor as a support. This was going to be incredibly embarrassing, though the likelihood of anyone finding out was slim to none.

He managed to work his way towards the door, lying down and pushing with his good leg. He felt utterly ridiculous doing it and was only thankful no one would ever see. Finally he made it to the door, which didn't follow his request to open. He was in a sitting position, braced against the wall, the closest he could come to standing, but nothing he did could coax the computer to even respond, much less let him out. Even if it had, there was nowhere really for him to go, injured as he was with no real way of locomotion, yet he knew that if he stayed here, he'd be dead soon enough anyway. Even if Morgan never came back to gloat over his body, and those of the others. That there were others horrified and disgusted him, and he felt something almost _stretch _in his head, as a white hot pain flared behind his eyes. Vaguely he remembered having felt it before somewhere, though he instinctively shied away from the memory. His vision greying out, he almost heard, as well as felt, a terrible snapping sensation as everything went black.

xxxx

The first room they were to target was occupied by two people. This was both the closest to the Bridge and the one Koloth had deemed most dangerous. If Fifteen _was_ in that room and Morgan had placed a guard in with him, they were likely to be armed. He tapped the override code into the panel, and watched as the door sprang back, his escort covering him with their phasers.

A glance back at the humans in the group saw them smirking broadly, he glanced back, intrigued as the occupants were revealed as a pair of humans in some state of undress. He closed his eyes and looked away, even as the two reached rapidly for clothing.

'Complete the covering of your _loathsome_ human bodies and report to your senior officers. I did not need to see this.'

The door shut, a relief to the two thoroughly embarrassed Starfleet officers.

'The next room has one occupant. Keep moving.'

'It is in an area occupied by storage bays, Ambassador, it is possible that whoever that life sign is is merely inventorying them, though we cannot rule out the possibility of theft.'

'It is also possible that they are Fifteen. I would not rule out that... _thing_ having placed him in storage as some sort of macabre joke.' Koloth growled. 'We will check, though the remaining room in this group would perhaps be more likely.'

The door hissed open as the occupant turned. Garbed in sciences blue and holding a PADD he started in surprise at seeing a Klingon with an armed escort, half of whom were in Starfleet uniform, staring at him. He tensed, waiting.

'Your reason for being here?'

'Um, I'm attempting to correct the inventory, sir. The lists I was given cannot be correct, but no one seems to have updated things used, or bothered to replace anything but the necessities and I _can't_ find...'

Koloth interrupted the rather panicked vocal stream. 'Go and write your report in your quarters, crewman, I am attempting to locate a hostage, it would behove you not to be here when I get back.'

'Yes sir, only...'

'Only? Only what, crewman?'

'I was sent to find something, and I _can't_. I'm not even sure it exists in the inventory anymore.'

'Ah. Right. Go and report its lack to those currently ensconced on the bridge. At once. What are you still doing here?'

The scientist ran towards the nearest turbolift, the group collectively wincing as he almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away.

'Right, according to the locator button, our next target is two corridors across, and one floor down. Let us move, as I believe you humans would say.'

As they entered the turbolift, one of the team noticed something that he had missed before.

'Ambassador, look at the _floor_. It's scuffed. It looks like something's been dragged across it, something metallic, but why would... sir, could it be some_one_, not something?'

Koloth stared at the scuffmarks, his eyes very narrow, and then back up at the speaker, who in turn stepped back instinctively at the look of utter fury on his face.

'A strong possibility. Look for further signs on the corridor we are about to enter.'

They didn't need to look hard. A set of scuffmarks very similar to those they had noticed led from the turbolift and on down the corridor. Behind him, he heard one of the humans quip,

'Follow the yellow brick road, we're off to find the tin man.'

He rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored the banter, such things could only lighten the grim mood of the rest as they walked on, hoping they'd get there in time.

The marks appeared to terminate in a dark corner, so one of Koloth's guards flashed a light, expecting to find a door. Instead they were faced with a thin access corridor, barely wide enough for them to walk single file. The walls were marked here, too, indicating that Morgan, if indeed Morgan it was, had been quite rough with his captive at this point. The beams of light facing forwards, they almost missed the glinting white object to one side of the floor. Koloth raised a hand, stopping and indicating it. It was a tooth, human by the looks of it, and a few spots of blood speckled the floor. Either Fifteen had fought back, though from the evidence of him being dragged, it seemed unlikely, or the tooth was his. Koloth barely bit back a swearword. If the tooth _was_ Fifteen's then Morgan was about to experience true Klingon anger. Maybe he'd even remove a few of _Morgan's_ teeth; after all, he was unlikely to need them for much, ever again.

The corridor seemed to go on forever; then there was a loud explosion ahead. Not even bothering to contain the swearword this time, Koloth began to run towards the sound, not noticing the aide that held the tracking device staring at it in shock. Where there had been one lifesign, there were now eight.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

Unassimilated Chapter VII

There was a door at the end of the corridor, but it was sealed even beyond the ability of Koloth's codes to break. Although this was probably where the explosion had originated, there was no sign of it to outside eyes.

'The doors are bomb-proof, of course, they always are. But how would whoever's in there be _able_ to make something explode with that much force?'

'We can ask questions later, we need to get inside. Ah, yes?' Koloth turned to his aide, who was proffering the PADD with an alarmed look in his eyes.

'What _have_ we here?' Looking at the plan, he was horrified to see eight dots as opposed to the one there had been before, though only one seemed less than static, flashing in and out of existence. He'd seen a dot do that before.

'WHAT is a Q doing here?'

'Sir?'

He indicated the flickering dot, like a candle half-out of oxygen. Whatever they were doing, it was unlikely to be anything good.

'Computer, this is an emergency, override lock on the door, and open it. Now.'

'Unable to comply.'

'Why not?'

'Insufficient clearance.'

'What do you mean insufficient...'

'Ambassador, we can't open it with explosives, look...' he indicated the dot closest to the door, whoever it was might not survive it, and if it was Fifteen, if rescuing him could kill him...'

'Ambassador Koloth to bridge, I need your chief engineer, his specialist diagnostic tools and a laser cutter here immediately. This may be vital.'

'Yes sir, message relayed.' The voice on the other end of the com seemed rather shocked... 'Ambassador, surely you have the override codes?'

'I have tried them. The computer refuses any and all access.'

He turned to Hannah, 'Head towards the turbolift to meet the engineer and bring him here.'

'Yes sir.'

It was a very long three minutes. Finally Hannah came back into view, leading a heavy set man of middling years who seemed to be muttering various crudities under his breath.

'Ambassador, you needed me?'

'Yes, I did. I want this door open. Now. My override codes were nonresponsive.'

The engineer took out his diagnostic tools and set to work, getting gradually paler, finally he turned to the ambassador and said, in a small, shaking voice;

'I can see why the override codes would not work, the sheer _amount_ of codes at work on this door... sir, they all have Morgan's signature, look like he's been building them up for years, sir what in hell was he doing?'

'Building a prison, I believe. Or conceivably a morgue. Right, we can't get through that way, cut your way in.'

'Yes sir... sir, you think _Fifteen_...'

'Do it NOW commander, I do not like the look of some of these lifesigns...'

The laser cutter made short work of the door, which finally, grudgingly, hissed open, revealing the chaos beyond.

xxxx

There was a single figure standing in the centre of the room. Koloth's fists balled in anger. He wasn't certain, but he suspected the youthful figure was a Q.

'Who are you and what are you doing here?' He snapped, eyes scanning the room. There were six unconscious figures, giving off a vague, silvery light, grouped along the far wall. He couldn't see Fifteen, the sight of a Q had driven from his mind the presence of the one by the door... 'Where is he?'

'Where is who.'

'Right. Emergency lights, one person to each lifesign, ignore the Q. We need to find Fifteen.'

'Sir?' It was hesitant, the voice coming from behind him. His head whipped around. One of his crewmen knelt beside an armoured figure, as unconscious as the rest, if anything glowing even brighter. He hurried over to them, muttering curses in his anger at having forgotten...

'Yes, that is Fifteen. Have you checked for a pulse?'

'Yes sir, it's weak but it's there.'

'Right. Koloth to bridge, request immediate medical aid. I have seven people in dire need of assistance.'

'Affirmative sir, medics are on their way.'

'Right, Hannah, would you...?'

'Yes sir.' Her voice shook with the anger she was only barely suppressing.

Koloth, having done all he could for now, turned with a glare to the Q.

'I repeat, who are you and what are you doing _here_?'

'I am QJ. I came to help.'

'Oh _really_?' Koloth asked, disbelief dripping from every syllable.

'Yes, really. Morgan's crimes could not go unanswered, I could not let him go unpunished. I guess I've been around Starfleet too long, I think they've rubbed off.'

'You're that one?'

'Yes sir.'

'Right. And the sudden appearance of the other lifesigns?'

'As said, I could not let Morgan go unpunished. This was his morgue, _was_ being the operative word. He would have killed more, now his victims have a chance at life.'

'Victims? They were dead?'

'Yes sir, they were. Now they're not. However annoyed you are with me, it is probably to everybody's advantage if I kept an eye on Morgan, he can't escape someone like me.'

'If you must. I can see your point, though I may not like it.'

QJ nodded once then disappeared in a flash of bluish white light.

Koloth stared at the spot where he'd been, then turned back to his vigil, waiting for help to arrive.

xxxx

The first of the medics stepped through the door, blinking at the unfamiliar room.

'Interesting, I never knew this room was even...' He broke off, staring at the six against the wall in horror.

'What is it, doctor?' Koloth snapped, the stress showing in the tenseness of his body.

'These crewmembers, they were reported as going missing on away missions, some of them _years_ ago. I... I signed their death certificates, sir. What the...?'

'I believe a Q bought them back... they were apparently here, dead, all along. I believe you can blame your former captain for that.'

'Why are they glowing?'

'I do not know. Scan them, see if the glow is anything to worry about.'

The others were mostly normal, now, their skins giving out very little light in comparison to what they had been. Fifteen's was fading, too, though he still shone at about half the brightness the others had when they first entered. It made an interesting image, the contrast between the glowing organic parts, and the slight sheen to the armour that had never been there before. One by one, the glow for the others blinked out as the medics worked around him. He had yet to let them too near Fifteen's body.

Finally, slowly, the luminescence faded from Fifteen's skin, too, though the tint to the metal parts of him remained. Finally the medic came back and Koloth, with a nod of acquiescence, let him begin his work. From the look on the medic's face, this was going to be complicated.

xxxx

'Right, apologise, Ambassador, but we cannot manoeuvre stretchers down the corridor. Could I respectfully ask you to request your crew use their superior strength to take the patients as far as the entrance to the access corridor where they are waiting?'

'Of course, Doctor.'

The doctor administered a shot to the neck of each patient. As he did so, he commented to Koloth, rather nervously.

'These shots are a combination of a heavy painkiller and an immobiliser, just in case any of them wake up in transit. Any movement could dislodge fragments of broken bones which in turn could cause them further problems. I'd imagine you want them taken to our sickbay?'

'Seven of the eight are your responsibility anyway, Doctor, and it is closer, however I would ask you let my own medic assist on working on Fifteen. He _was_ placed in my custody, so his ultimate fate is still my responsibility at this moment in time.'

'As you wish, Ambassador, though most of the crew would affirm that Fifteen is one of us.'

xxxx

'Doctor, your report on the condition of your patients?'

'All seven had various fractures and breaks to their bones, Ambassador.'

'And were these injuries likely to be fatal, Doctor?'

'In most cases, I do not believe that they would have been, although in one case there was a broken rib that punctured a lung, so they would have likely died faster. However, Lieutenant Fifteen's considerably more extensive injuries could well have sent him into extreme shock, which in turn could have been fatal. Although, Ambassador, of all the patients, only Fifteen shows no evidence of muscle wastage in dehydration or starvation. I do not believe that in his case it was fatal.'

Koloth closed his eyes, suppressing his wince of sympathy only by sheer strength of will. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to get both his emotions and his temper back under control, he looked up once more.

'Do you mean to tell me that they were abandoned to die of starvation and dehydration? He just left them to die?'

'That is my current diagnosis, Ambassador, although I have yet to test their bloodstreams for traces of drugs or poisons that may have hastened their deaths.'

'I see, and do you know the identity of your patients?'

'Yes sir, I have run DNA checks. I could not risk wrongly informing families of the re-emergence of somebody who they thought was dead, if this was not in fact the case.'

'I see, I trust you will be discreet?'

'Yes sir, I will pass on to the families of the Exeter crew previously reported missing their fate as it is now. Beyond that, I will not act.'

'Doctor, I will need to present a report to Starfleet as to the nature of their injuries. As Morgan's victims, their injuries may be vital evidence in his trial. Is there a way you could present said findings while preserving the anonymity of your patients?'

'Yes sir, I believe so. I can present them as Patient One, Patient Two, etc. With their true identities redacted and encoded in a computer under my seal. It would be unfair for the families at this stage to know which patient was their relative. If said patients wish to tell them at a later date, then they are welcome to.'

xxxx

There was a flash as QJ appeared in sickbay, answering Koloth's summons.

'You wanted to talk to me?'

'Yes, you were present in that room, what happened to revive them?'

'It was necessary.'

'Q, do not try my patience, what happened?'

'It was necessary, the process had already been started before I arrived, but the initiator would have died before the process was completed.'

'I assume, therefore, that Fifteen started the process?'

'Yes sir'

'How?'

'I do not know. He is a Borg, he was a human. He has no trace of Q powers; he should not have been able to do what he did. However, he did so.'

'I see. I presume that you will not help him do so again?'

'No sir, however, I had to work through him as the initiator in order to complete the process. In so doing I have broken through several mental blocks on various abilities. He may need guidance and help to control said abilities at a later point in time.'

'You mean that Fifteen has the ability to reverse death?'

'Yes, there is a strong possibility that he may indeed be able to do so, however, if I may make a suggestion, I do not believe that he is in any fit state to be told of any of this until he recovers from his physical injuries. Ambassador, some things, such as the power to restore life, should never be spoken of to anybody, the pressure placed on anybody with this ability would be enormous. As such, I do not believe it would be in the best interest of anybody involved to ever let this information become public knowledge.'

'And Fifteen?'

'I believe his healing needs to be complete before even tentative mentions of his mental powers are made in front of him. I do not believe that he should ever be told just what he did today.'

'I will ensure there are no written records. You will take responsibility?'

'Yes, Ambassador, I will.'

xxxx

Fifteen woke slowly, aware by the smell and the cool air around him that he was in a different location, even before he opened his biological eye. It both smelled and felt like sickbay, though he could not be sure it wasn't another refinement to Morgan's torture of him. The pain levels at this point were bearable, and he felt he could probably operate at said level. A cool hand touched his forehead, and a voice he knew whispered his name.

'Sixteen?' Her face swam into view above him, though his vision seemed strangely blurred.

'Hush, you're safe now. Relax, you've had a busy day.'

'Sixteen, there were others, they were dead, what...'

'I don't know. The others...' she broke off, as a young man in Starfleet uniform appeared out of thin air and froze her with a click of his fingers.

'I am QJ. And I bought them back. That is all you need to know.' He disappeared again, Sixteen unfreezing as he did so.

'What? Who was that? What happened?'

'I don't know. Some being calling himself QJ... apparently he did it.'

'Oh.' The short word nonetheless spoke volumes, Sixteen was not particularly amused.

xxxx

Over the next few days the Exeter crew came in, a few at a time, for visits to the sick. All six patients got visitors, though some more than others. Due to the nature of their injuries, the visits were, by necessity, short. All six slept a lot, and often the visitors would come only to leave a few minutes later, unwilling to wake them from slumber to pain. None of them commented on the silvery glow still visible on the metal parts of Fifteen's body, the fact that they had all been glowing when they were found had spread far enough that they didn't have to. Several of them, finding him sleeping, did watch it for a minute or two before they left, but by the time he was fully lucid again, it had been accepted as just another part of him.

xxxx

Fifteen came to, blearily, the lights seemed brighter than usual, though nothing was in focus. He groaned, weakly, hearing rather than seeing someone moving towards him.

'No...' he moaned, trying to move out of the way of whoever it was that was attacking him.

A familiar voice said, as though from very far away, 'Fifteen, I am Ambassador Koloth. You know me. You are safe here. This is Doctor Brough, he tells me you must be kept still awhile longer, or else your wrist may never heal.'

Fifteen felt the hypospray touch his skin, then descended once more into sleep. Over his now sleeping form, the doctor and the ambassador shared a speaking glance. Morgan the moron would pay for what he had done. They would _both_ make sure of that.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. Longer chapter to make up for the wait. Enjoy!

Unassimilated Chapter VIII

Morgan sat, alone; in the cell-like room he had been confined to, lost in his thoughts, the pair of Klingons at the door occasionally shifting enough to give him identical looks of utter contempt. Who were _they_ to consider _him_ an object of disgust? They were Klingons, they had stolen his ship, they were even helping the thing that called itself 'Fifteen', as though it thought it had a right to the name. It wasn't much of one, of course, befitting something like that, but to dare to use even a number? To parade itself as an entity when it was a machine? He had no idea that he was speaking aloud, still less that said words were being recorded by the very guards he despised. But then, by then, he didn't care. They wanted to lock him up? So be it. He'd take them all down with him when he fell.

A smirk split his rather bruised features at that, oh yes, he'd take them all with him. He wasn't done yet, he'd been altering his ship for years, they could not possibly have found all the codes he'd set into the mainframe... no, they'd never even know it was coming.

xxxx

Fifteen became conscious of his surroundings very slowly. There was a face leaning over him that he didn't know, but something about the room itself was comforting.

'You are in sickbay, Lieutenant. You've had a very traumatic experience, do you remember any of it?'

'You told me my arm was broken, was that the result of the beating? I remember being beaten, a dark room, with bodies in it, dead bodies, they, there was a voice... I don't, how did I get here?'

'Do you remember your name, Lieutenant?'

'I, I don't know. I have memories, but they're hazy, I, did I _have_ a name?'

The doctor sighed. 'We know you as Fifteen, Lieutenant, you are safe. I think you need to sleep again now. There will always be someone in the room, and there is a guard at the door to make sure no one can attack you.'

'But I don't...'

'This sleep will be dreamless, Lieutenant, out you go.'

'But...' The world darkened as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

xxxx

Doctor Brough had not been entirely truthful with Ambassador Koloth. Fifteen's DNA was still too corrupted by the nanoprobes to get an accurately detailed DNA profile. He could make assumptions, but he had no real certainties. He was well aware of the ambassador's interest in the Borg, though he still was not entirely certain of the reason for that, either. Now that Morgan was locked up, he could easily have returned custody of the refugees to Exeter. He had not done so, instead remaining in ultimate charge of them.

He tapped in the details of the patients various medical needs and blinked. Fifteen's reaction to the drugs he was given seemed, curiously, to mainly be confined to a single, very large, family. Although he still could not be certain, the doctor decided to act upon the request in the file to inform a specific family member of this. That he knew the man in question was merely a bonus, at least this way he could be pretty positive that he'd be believed.

Unknown to him, Ambassador Koloth was in the process of doing the same thing.

xxxx

Richard stared at the message in disbelief. It appeared to be from Ambassador Koloth, though the contents of the missive were unsettling, to say the least. Why Koloth would be on _Exeter_ of all ships was bewildering, though the idea of them having problems tallied with the rumours he'd heard over the past few months concerning that crew. That Koloth was not only willingly on the same ship as a Borg, but had taken guardianship of it, would have been almost laughable if it hadn't been so serious. That he thought Richard should be involved with said patient was also interesting, though if he was right and the entity _was_ a fluent Klingon speaker, then it might be useful in the long run. Either way, he should probably take Koloth up on the invitation to go and speak to it, if only to reassure himself that his old friend wasn't making a terrible mistake.

He didn't have long to think about said message.

There was a ding as another message, also from Exeter, also from someone he knew, appeared. Eyes widening as he took in that said communication came from Reggie Brough, he opened it, half-afraid of what he might find. Images of an Exeter assimilated by said Borg flashed through his mind as he debated the implications. Ah well, better to bite the bullet.

Now this was _interesting_. Not necessarily in a good way, but interesting nonetheless. According to Reggie, the Borg was both male and appeared to be a relative, though the Doctor appeared rather reluctant to speculate, the fact that the nanoprobes appeared to be interfering with his DNA profile was adequate enough reason to assume that he was possibly a son, maybe even a grandson. With no knowledge of his age, Richard couldn't begin to guess. He had an awful lot of children, too many to easily keep track of, yet as far as he knew none were missing, at least not in Exeter's flight path. And that a child of his could not only be assimilated but somehow _resist_? He no longer doubted this fact. With two separate corroborations, the findings were all but assured, and after all, his family did seem to have some very strong genes. He would go and see this person, juvenile or adult, he didn't even know _that_, though adult was far more likely given what he knew of the Borg... probably in his twenties, though again, he could not be sure until he met him. Now he just had to work out how to warn his other children of their probable brother. This might almost be fun.

xxxx

Fifteen, of course, had no idea that someone was coming to see him in particular, much less who it was. His memory was still patchy, though the doctor had told him that was perfectly normal for the drug cocktail he had been administered in order to keep him unconscious. From what he said, though, the worrying bone was healing, albeit more slowly than expected, so hopefully he would be out of the sickbay sometime soon. He had no idea what he was going to do once he'd left, though. He felt something of a spare part, as there was nothing, apparently, he'd really had specific orders to do, and nowhere he could really call a home onboard ship. That irritated something lurking deep at the back of his mind, a vague sense of wrongness that he could not put into words.

He'd had visitors, of course, they all had, but the other patients still looked at him with something approaching fear, and nobody was close enough to each other to really talk. Why they were afraid of him, too, he couldn't fathom, though the fact that a silvery, metallic _something_ covered his body was one possible reason. There was always a doctor nearby when any of them woke up, and although he could see the others during the day, there was shielding around each bed, and he had yet to be sure that the others could even hear him. The doctor could, but he seemed to be very much the exception not the rule.

At night, the screens between the beds turned opaque, supposedly to grant them privacy, but really so that no one could see another's nightmares and be disturbed by them. The others seemed to be recovering quicker than Fifteen was, though the fact that he had had a lot more injuries when found was a major factor, so too was the lingering amnesia. The doctors were unable to predict, one way or the other, whether he would remember the time spent healing when his memories finally deigned to reappear. Though they were almost certain that his previous memories _would_ come back, they had no idea how long it would take him. As such, he remained confined to a bed, though no longer required to lie still, there wasn't much he could really do but read. He did so voraciously, trying to offset the boredom he felt.

xxxx

Richard opened a channel to the Exeter, voice shaking slightly. Though he'd almost got used to the idea of an assimilated son, he was still very uneasy. That Koloth seemed almost to _trust_ him was somewhat worrying. Could the Borg have manipulated him? It was far from an easy feat, but anything, surely was possible. Yet, in the back of his mind, he wondered. If he, or indeed any of his children, though he shied from the possibility instinctively, had been assimilated in body, not mind, would they really have acted all that differently? Or was the boy's, and he thought of him as 'boy', if only to keep sane, reaction normal? If so, could there be others yet undiscovered, and how many had been killed before they could tell people what and who they really were? Or, perhaps more worrying a thought, was his son unique?

Koloth's face appeared on the screen.

'Ah, Richard, I have been expecting you.'

'Yes, Ambassador. This Borg, Doctor Brough tells me he has features of my family, is he my son?'

'I believe that he is related to you, though I cannot confirm or deny the precise degree of said relationship. As you may be aware, there is a peculiarity in Borg that means that we cannot run any accurate tests. I do not know what that is, though the good doctor has informed me that as far as he knows, it holds true for all such beings.'

'Would it be advisable for me to visit, and if so I will need permission from Captain Morgan to so do...'

'Actually, Richard, you do not need to. As acting Captain of the Exeter, I grant you said permission.'

'What the hell happened, Koloth?' Richard, in his shock, had forgotten to be formal. Koloth smiled slightly at him before he replied, it was rare that he could get such a reaction.

'That I cannot tell you over an open channel, Richard. Indeed it would be far better to continue this discussion face to face. How quickly can you book transport?'

'It is that important?'

'I believe so, yes.'

'Then I will call a few favours due. I should be there within the next forty-eight hours at the latest, if that is acceptable?'

'It is. Thank you.' The screen went dark, and Richard shook his head. If it was really that important, then the requests from some of his children to meet their newly discovered brother could wait awhile.

Sighing, he dialled a new number, someone who owed him a fair few of them was currently in charge of a shuttle yard. In order to get to Exeter, he would need transportation, after all.

'Ah, Richard, old friend. You needed me?'

'Yes, Claude, I did. I need a shuttle, as soon as you can, I need to get to a ship, my presence has been requested.'

'How far do you need to go, what ship, and how urgent? I don't have anything fancy, all the newer models are out on loan, but I can think of a few that might get you there, depending how far you're going.'

'I need to get to Exeter. I _know_, Claude, but I have reason to believe I have a possible son onboard, and I need to get there to make sure. It's urgent, Ambassador Koloth was most insistent that I get there as soon as possible.'

Claude's face had closed at the mention of the ship his daughter had died serving on. 'Koloth? Don't you mean _Morgan_, may he rot in whatever hell he ends up in?'

'Ah, no. The ambassador informed me that he is in temporary command, though not what happened to make him be.'

'Richard, yes, I can get you a shuttle, but _promise_ me, if you find out any information on my Susie, tell me? It's been killing me not to know what happened to her. Missing in action is no comfort at all.'

'I promise, Claude.' Susanna Perrino had been missing, presumed dead, for almost three years. Richard had helped Claude find as much information, scant though it was, he could about his daughter. He remembered Susanna, a young, dark haired, dark eyed ensign, very proud of her shiny new commission, and that she had been posted to Exeter, one of the top starships. She hadn't lasted long.

'Richard, go. I'll send the shuttle round, go and see your son, at least one of us may find a living child onboard that ship, not just ghosts. Though, I do want the ship back, so be careful. I know how you fly, and I'd rather neither of you ended up as space dust.'

xxxx

Koloth was waiting as Richard's rather battered shuttle drifted its way into the bay. As he stepped out, he raised an eyebrow pointedly.

'Don't give me that look, Koloth, it was battered when I was loaned it.'

'It's a loan?'

'It is.'

'Whoever loaned _you_ a shuttle was foolhardy, he must be to trust you to pilot it this far without a major malfunction.'

'Ambassador Koloth, I _can_ pilot a shuttle occasionally, you know.'

'That I would have to see to believe.'

'Koloth, what happened, and where is my... son?'

'I believe you had better come with me.'

'Yes sir.' The serious look on Koloth's face had frozen him into almost unthinking obedience. The old Klingon was never this tense without a good reason. He noticed, with a sinking feeling, that they were walking closer and closer to Reggie's domain. Sickbay. He had known his child _had_ been a patient, but to know that, even with the enhanced rate of healing of the Borg, he was somehow still there...

The door hissed open. There was a row of beds, all occupied, all shielded. He could not see at a glance which was which. Koloth turned to him as the noise from the corridor beyond cut off.

'I believe we need to talk, Richard.'

'Yes, I believe we do. _What happened_.'

'I cannot tell you everything, or even most things. A lot of it is currently sub judice, pending investigation and trial. I am sure you understand.'

Richard sighed again, heavily. 'Yes, I do. What _can_ you tell me?'

'Moron is currently incarcerated, under guard.'

'Moron?' Richard interrupted, a grin on his face, 'do you mean Morgan?'

'Ah, yes, I do. Thank you, Richard, for the correction. As I was saying...'

'Where'd you get Moron from? It's brilliant, but it's not really your style...'

'I believe I picked it up from someone you will meet shortly.'

'Really?'

'Indeed.'

'I like this kid already, go on.'

'Thank you for your permission, Richard. As I was saying, _Morgan_ is currently in custody, pending trial and, ahem, punishment. I regret that I must leave such matters to a Federation court. Your relative is, amongst others, under my protection.'

While he was talking, Reggie Brough had made his way over.

'Ah, Richard, I believe I can give you a better idea of Fifteen's progress.'

'Fifteen? I thought you said the assimilation didn't work, you do not call non-Borg by numbers, Reggie.'

'Not typically, no, but that is the only name he has given us, therefore, for now, it must suffice. If you manage to find out his name, that is all to the good, though he does not appear, if he remembers it, to like it particularly.'

'Whether I know his human name or not, I will not call him Fifteen. That is a number, Doctor, not a name.'

'I am aware of that, though you should be aware, Richard, that we count Fifteen as one of us, as surely as if he officially served with us. He has friends here, and those who would protect him, though you are perhaps in a better position to protect your kinsman than we.'

'Kinsman? Not son?'

'I cannot guarantee that he _is_ your son, Richard. Only that he appears to be a close relative. He may be son, may be grandson, though he cannot be any further removed, judging by his age.'

'I thought Borg were typically in their twenties.'

'Ah, yes, that is normally the case, however you should be advised that nothing about Fifteen or his compatriots is typical.'

'Compatriots? What compatriots.'

'The other borg. Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen and Nineteen. All seemingly human to varying degrees. You should also be advised that there seems to be an attachment between Fifteen and Sixteen, I would hypothesise that they may have been, in fact may still be, at least in a partnership if not married.

Richard nodded. 'I will keep that in mind, Doctor, now would you show me to my son?'

Reggie nodded. 'Indeed I will.'

Richard was led across to one of the covered beds, the only name visible on the chart was 'Fifteen', though at least it was written as a word, not merely as digits. The shielding was lifted slowly, revealing the sleeping occupant beneath. He blinked, shocked. If he overlooked the obvious Borg attributes of the figure, he could see himself in their face. He could see similarities to many of his other children, too, though the fact that the sleep seemed too deep to be natural angered him.

'Reggie, what is his status?'

'He is recovering.'

'Recovering from _what_? Richard snapped. 'What is going on, Reggie.'

'Recovering from multiple injuries as well as the amnesia the immobilisation drugs gave him. He is healing, however it will take time.'

Richard turned his head to stare at the other visibly conscious occupant of the room. 'Where have you stashed Morgan, Koloth? As you are currently in command, I assume he had a lot to do with this. Where is he, I want _words_ with him. No one hurts one of my children and gets away with it.' His eyes flashed green fire as he said this, though his voice was so calm as to be almost emotionless, his hands were visibly shaking in anger.

'Morgan is currently in a secure cell, Richard. There he will remain until he is placed on trial. We need to know how many more bodies are still on this ship, how many have vanished altogether. He is a murderer and we need to know how many others he's killed.'

'What do you mean others, Koloth?'

'He was found in a sealed room, Richard. He wasn't alone, there were six other occupants who are now here in sickbay, recovering from their own wounds and regaining muscle mass lost.'

'Lost? Lost how, and was my son in the same condition?'

'He had multiple injuries, though muscle wastage was not one of them. I do not know how much there is in the others, nor how it was lost. However, I know that the other beings had been missing for quite some time.'

'Koloth, Morgan fed them?'

'I cannot tell you more, Richard, it may bias the trial ahead and I, for one, would like to see justice done in this case.'

'You're not going to tell me where he is, are you?'

'I do not believe that would be wise at this time, Richard, no. However, rest assurred, he _will_ get what's coming to him.'

'Then, for now, there is nothing I can do here, is there? You will notify me as soon as my son wakes up?'

'We will indeed, Richard.'

'Right, then. This Sixteen, would you know where they are at this point in time?'

'I do not, though I am sure someone will know where to find her.'

They exited sickbay together, Richard following Koloth closely. Hopefully this _Sixteen_ could shed some further light on the issue, namely the man he believed to be his son.


End file.
